"There's hope for the hopeless........"

12:30 pm
Home
I am glad I stayed up after work this morning to watch Barack Obama's inauguration. The massive crowd was unlike anything I have ever seen on television, it was a sea of faces, white and black, men and women along with their children. The word history is used too often to describe insignificant events but the word history here is itself insignificant. This is more than history, it is an idea taking shape and the brilliance in its application. Today is a day of hope, a day of remembrance, a day of tears, a day of smiles but most importantly it is a day of change. Memories of today will be written more eloquently elsewhere and in the shadows of their words I take my place, with Hope For The Hopeless by A Fine Frenzy whispering against the wind.
http://ca.youtube.com/watch?v=qOSUvgNMuWA
To stay awake following work, I went out to Starbucks for a thermos of green tea, a bagel and finished reading The Cellist of Sarajevo. I also got a couple of tickets for the Knights game Friday. I also wrote something, not really a poem, just a train of words, they will be further down the page. Below is a passages from The Cellist of Sarajevo by Steven Galloway.
"And to be a ghost while you're still alive is the worst thing he can imagine. Because, like it or not, sooner or later we all become ghosts, we are washed away from ground until even the memory of us is gone. But there's a time when we are not, and you have to know the difference. Once you forget, then you are a ghost."
I think I am too often a ghost but then there are days like today when I feel very much alive and inspired.
The sun light here this morning was appropriately immaculate especially for a January day. Since I sleep during the day, it seemed extra bright to me and it was almost too much for my eyes. It reminded me of beauty, love and music. Because it is a Tuesday and because I am a fan of Counting Crows, the song On A Tuesday In Amsterdam Long Ago seemed perfect for my ears. I was listening to its raw emotion, and thinking someone in Amsterdam will look back upon this historic Tuesday with their own memories carefully placed out on paper or a computer screen. The memories will not be the same as those in the song, the music playing will not be the same and the city will not be the same. The emotions might not even be the same but the rawness under their skin will always be the same as yours or mine, it is what unites us.
"She's a carnival diver, hung in the sky, cutting through time like a memory strung on a wire, the color of anything fades in the air, but she is the film of a book, of the story, of the smell, of her hair....."
http://ca.youtube.com/watch?v=_HfF-CFCq7Q
Black book, pencil, lined paper and capital letters, a man and his thoughts.
I wrote the following sitting in a Tokyo purple velvet chair and trying to keep sun light aided, sleep deprived and otherwise induced tears from falling.
The sun has returned today like the memory of a girl who very briefly shone in my sky. Her presence in my thoughts is very rare now like the sun in January. I have gradually fallen out of love with her and nothing has replace her in my heart. I fell in love with her on the wings of a snowflake. Never had I seen so much snow and because of this the day could not be forgotten. The swings of our hearts would never move in the same rhythm. I should have known in the beginning because I know my endings. They are the results of false starts and imaginary reciprocation. So like the sun in the January sky and Obama in the White House, there is immense hope for tomorrow. In love and life, I do not deserve anymore. After all, love and life are air and simple gifts, inhaled and exhaled, wrapped and unwrapped.
john edward charles raeside.